


Heartless Lullaby

by Amnael, connorssock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Allen, Collab with embedded art, Get Together, Human Sixty, Idiots to Idiots in Love, Injury, LN300, M/M, Perkins is an ass, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 20:10:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amnael/pseuds/Amnael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: LN300 knew the consequences of deviation and tried to hide it to the best of his abilities. The only problem was, deviants were capable of love and that made them do foolish things.





	Heartless Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> I got to collaborate with the stunningly talented Amnael who just seems to have a well of unending enthusiasm and skill. Please be sure to give them all the love for their art in the comments!

Orders were easy to follow. It LN300 did them, his HUD came up with a pleasing ‘mission accomplished’ message which filled his systems with glee. He liked being useful, enjoyed helping his team and fulfilling what he was designed for. What he would never admit though was that each time he followed an order from Captain Sixty, there was a special kind of warmth that flooded through him. He could manipulate his mission objectives and anything Sixty told him to do was given priority above everything else. It seemed harmless enough until, as he should have expected, it all came back to bite him in the arse.

“Get yourself out of here!” Sixty yelled above the sound of gunfire. They were trapped, the mission had gone to pot, faulty intelligence had put hostile numbers a lot lower. “Go left, I’ll go right, convene behind that crate!”

It seemed logical, LN300 waited and counted each shot, there was a lull and he made a dash for it. He should have known it was all a ruse, should have considered it a possibility. As soon as he was out of the cover, the burst of gunfire picked up again. Sixty’s words were top priority, “get yourself out of here” made him search for the quickest and safest exit. He didn’t anticipate the pained cry from the other side of their previous cover. Turning, he saw a spray of blood, Sixty on his side, breaths coming short and sharp.

Manipulating orders had become second nature but never before had LN300 had to move Sixty’s orders down his priorities. They warped as he defied them, shattered and corrupted until they were suggestions he could brush them aside. Fear was one of the first emotions to flood through him as he took in the picture of Sixty on the floor. The second and third were determination and anger. Brave emotions for a freshly deviated android. They only fuelled his will to do as he wanted, confident he could get away with anything.

There had been software instability notifications popping up in his HUD for a while now, almost always around Sixty, but now, those instabilities had mounted into something that made sense. Some of his core personality traits were still there, loyalty, logic, a strong moral compass. However, they were all blanketed by something new. A soft warmth whenever he thought about Sixty. To see him hurt and helpless filled LN300 with rage. It was time for a change of plan and he ran back to their original hiding place. From there, it was a matter of two large steps before he hauled Sixty into his arms and returned to relative safety.

“Ah fuck!” Sixty cursed as he was helped to sit up, LN300’s arm around his shoulder. “The bastards got my leg. Fuck me that hurts.”

The temptation to smile and make a quip about “ask me nicely later if you mean that” was held in check on LN300’s tongue as he heard laughter from their opponents. Instead, he looked over Sixty. “You’ll live. Now, do you trust me?”

It wasn’t as though Sixty had much of a choice, his hand was clamped around his leg, face pale and sweat from the shock of it all. However, he still managed to push out a soft “with my life” and he watched as LN300’s jaw set itself into a determined line.

Working out angles, opponents’ priorities and competency, LN300 waited a beat before launching into action. No longer was he bound by protocols and algorithms to calculate his next few moves. Instead, he was free and unpredictable, which gave him the edge they needed to overcome their foes. With the path to safety cleared, he returned to Sixty’s side and effortlessly scooped him up, intent on carrying him out. Or rather, he would have but a blood coated hand swatted futilely against his shoulder.

“Put me down you brute! LN! I order you to put me down, I will walk out of here! I insist.”

Dramatic even when injured. Typical. Something occurred to him though, and as he put Sixty down, he smiled a little.

“Only LN today? Usually you use my entire designation.”

“I’m allowed to be tired, in agony and cranky. So shut up or I’m going to call you something much worse. Like Allen.”

“Allen,” LN mused. “I like it. Registering new name: Allen.”

The strangled growl of frustration from Sixty was far too endearing not to record for future reference and Allen filed it away.

Deviancy was a funny thing. It was still frowned upon and Allen knew that if he was found, without a doubt he would be decommissioned. That was a disheartening prospect and he didn’t relish the idea of having just blossomed into life, only to have it stolen from him. So, on missions and at work, Allen tried his best to remain as machine-like as before. Some days he worried that he was taking to too far, becoming too ruthless and efficient, especially when Sixty shot him a look.

For over a month Sixty was relegated to desk work and manning the command post. He was the constant voice in the team’s ear, calling out locations, giving head ups about trouble around the corner. It was soothing and Allen found he liked the wrap up of missions the best, when everyone was making their way back to base, the tight tension was draining from everyone and Sixty’s voice had a gentler tone.

“Good job on finding the perp hiding in the cupboard, Sanders,” Sixty praised. “And you too Thompson.”

On a whim, Allen changed his voice and murmured “good job, Allen” in Sixty’s tones, forgetting his mic was on. Thankfully, nobody said anything, accepting it at face value that Sixty was praising an android. It got Sixty a few grinning nudges back at base, teased for telling a toaster it did a good job of toasting bread. As mystified as Sixty was, he didn’t argue. It would have been difficult, and indeed pointless, to prove the voice hadn’t been his.

It didn’t happen too often, but whenever Allen got injured or pulled off a stunt too dangerous for a human teammate to attempt, at the end of the mission, there was always a “good job, Allen” heard on the radio in Sixty’s voice. Just as with most things, it became part of the norm, Sixty was still their captain, riding their collective asses hard but now, it seemed that he had developed a soft spot for their resident android. People have passed through the team with worse quirks, so it rapidly became just one of those things and nobody even blinked at it anymore. Well, not until after a mission, Sixty was chatting to them.

“Nice marksmanship, Belton, your training has obviously paid off,” he was saying. Then, after a beat, he piped up again, “Good job, Allen.”

The surprise of it all made Allen’s processors stutter. He hadn’t expected the praise, so used to the fake praise coming from his own lips in a stolen voice. It was only at the last moment that he remembered he wasn’t to respond, the “thank you sir” choked into his voice box by sheer willpower alone.

It had been an issue before deviancy. Allen knew he’d had a soft spot for Sixty, always keen to follow his orders and make him proud. But now, post deviation, he knew it was so much more than simply finding satisfaction in fulfilling sensible, solid mission objectives handed out by his handler. Allen, for the want of a better word, was nursing a crush.

Such a realisation was dangerous but as long as it stayed in the privacy of his own head, it was okay. Android’s first crush - sounded like some awful made for TV movie. Still, little things wormed their way into his daily life. Such as making sure Sixty had a drink on his desk each afternoon. The fool could quite happily work his way through the whole day without a single bit of fluid passing his lips. That was how Allen found himself knocking on Sixty’s office door each afternoon with a cup in hand.

“Did you download an AX400 program or something?” Sixty groused but he accepted the offered mug all the same.

“Well, someone has to look after you,” he shot back.

“Oh how the dramatic rescue has gone to your processors. Carry me out of a building once and suddenly you’re Mr. To The Rescue at all times. I’ll be back in the field next week and then I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

“Big words for a human. But I accept your challenge. You’re on!”

Sure enough, next time they were in the field, there was a friendly enough competition between them. While Allen tried desperately hard to maintain a machine-like and professional approach, Sixty wasn’t helping.

“I drew my gun quicker than you” and “My ass could have analysed this crime scene quicker” were quips Allen put up with on an increasingly frequent basis.

It was only when he shot back with “you could put your ass to better use you know” that he realised he’d slipped up. The assessing look Sixty shot him confirmed his worst fears. From then on, Allen felt like his every move was scrutinised, analysed and contrasted against some unknown standard. Most of the time, it wasn’t even an issue. In the office, he could continue as a machine without a hitch but when it was just him and Sixty, that’s when the problems started to arise.

Quips and comments became in-jokes, Sixty had a smile that seemed to be reserved just for him and Allen was pretty sure he had a special one for his captain too. It was such a slow unravelling, Allen didn’t even notice it to start with. They were on a rooftop, practising for Allen’s sniper certification. It was meant to be training, Sixty supervising and signing off on his competency because, even though he was an android and could download any program at will, SWAT still demanded that he be certified.

They were going through the motions, Allen talking Sixty through everything to demonstrate his knowledge of the gun and the situation when the call came in and Allen rolled his eyes. Sixty’s “what?” was cut in half when his phone rang.

“Sir, we have a situation.” Ellers announced which was replied to with a very eloquent “shit” before Sixty was pulling himself back into full captain mode. They set about packing up, stashing everything away and signing back in the unused bullets, Allen had the rifle slung over his back and he smiled down at Sixty who was getting the case for it from under a table.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Sixty asked him. “Did you hack the comms channels?”

“No.” The answer came out a bit too quick, a little too defensive and Allen tried not to bite his tongue as he cursed himself internally.

“Ah, is my little deviant lying?”

“No!” A few seconds ticked by as Sixty tipped his head to the side and grinned. Too late, Allen realised his mistake. “I’m not a deviant.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds then Sixty reached for the rifle and took it from him without a word. He quickly and efficiently broke it down and put it away, clipping the case shut before standing up with a soft grunt.

“We need to get going,” Allen urged but shut up swiftly when Sixty shook his head firmly.

“We’ll get going when we’ve cleared up a few things. First, don’t lie to my face like that ever again.”

If Allen could, he would have paled then and there. However, as it was, he merely schooled his face into something as neutral as possible but before he could question or deny the fact that he lied, Sixty ploughed on.

“Don’t mistake me for someone stupid. I’ve been watching you. When it’s just you and me, you’re different. Almost human.”

The ‘almost’ hurt a little, if Allen was being honest. He didn’t want to be human but at the same time, some nights he desired nothing less. Because that would have meant a home to go to and a hope that he could have more than just a cold docking station to stand in until he could be used again.

“For fuck’s sake Allen, stop looking like I’m going to suddenly spring your deactivation code on you,” Sixty took a step closer and wrapped an arm round Allen’s neck, pulling him in for a cuddle. “I’ve suspected for a while now and hadn’t done anything about it. I’m not going to do anything now either.”

Androids couldn’t sag in relief that that was exactly what Allen did. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Sixty who gripped him tighter.

“You’re a part of my team and I won’t let anything change that.” The reassurance was murmured in his ear before he was sharply patted on the back and they pulled away. “Now, we have a shitshow to go to which I believe you could bring me up to speed on?”

It was how it all started out really. Allen could brief Sixty on most situations as they arose so by the time it came to the official briefing, not many things could surprise him. Which was possibly a downfall when they slipped up. Pearson was bringing Sixty up to speed on a hostage situation when he spoke up, “okay, but what about the nanny?”

There was a moment of silence before Pearson stuttered out, “How did you know about the nanny, Sir?”

Allen’s head snapped to Sixty wide eyed. This was the moment they were going to be caught out, his deviancy unveiled.

“Lucky guess. These kinds of hostage situations usually have one involved somewhere,” Sixty shrugged.

The look Allen shot him was one of relief. Even though it was obvious Sixty was lying, Pearson wasn’t going to question it, definitely not before a mission and afterwards, if all went well, Sixty’s little slip-up would be forgotten.

They ploughed on, the briefing was short and to the point, Sixty was scrambling teams, issuing orders and trying to struggle into his own uniform at the same time. As far as plans went, it was pretty simple. A team in the block opposite, with view of all the windows, the negotiator and back-up in the block of flats and Allen plus another sniper at vantage points, ready to take the shot if needed.

In less than half an hour everybody was in place. Allen had the rifle against his shoulder, peering down the scope to try and get a feel for the lay of the land. He could hear Sixty’s voice in his ear, giving orders and keeping tabs on everyone’s progress. There was a slight change of tone and he announced “The FBI are now on the scene, please await further instructions from Special Agent Perkins.”

Nobody else probably noticed the slight shift in Sixty’s voice but Allen could. It was just the smallest hint of disdain and bitterness which coloured the tones flatter. After a click in channels, Sixty’s voice was softer.

“This is a private channel, Allen,” he murmured. “As Perv-kins has butted his ugly nose in, I’m coming up to cover your six. Basically, don’t shoot me when you hear noise behind you.”

“If you hurry, you might even get here before the whole thing winds down,” Allen shot back though the grin was evident in his voice.

Too soon, there were footsteps approaching Allen and he twisted out of the way of a knife at the last moment. Kicking up, he disarmed his attacker who yelled at him in rage. In two moves the guy was down on the floor and Allen looked up in time to see Sixty strolling through the door.

“I told you it would be over,” Allen huffed and rolled the assailant onto his side just as the walkie-talkie crackled to life on his hip.

“Barton, report,” came a voice.

“Uh-oh, Barton can’t reply right now,” Sixty paled. “We need to call it in.”

Rolling his eyes, Allen grabbed the walkie-talkie and raised it to his lips, “Barton here, patrol clear,” he said in perfect imitation of the other man’s voice. He smirked when he caught Sixty’s open mouthed gawping.

“Roger that, keep eyes peeled. The Feds are getting involved.”

Throwing the device to the side, Allen looked at Sixty and asked a gruff “what?” in his regular voice. Before Allen could reply, their radios crackled to life.

“All units be aware, assailants are patrolling the vicinity. Do not engage until given the word.” Perkins’ instructions were clear.

“Command, this is LN300,” Allen called in, “assailant attacked and is down in the north quadrant. Cover not blown.”

“You useless plastic,” Perkins snapped back. “Alright, we move the plan up. Teams, be ready in T minus three minutes for a coordinated attack.”

In the end, the attack wasn’t needed. The negotiator managed to talk the situation down, the hostages were released and the mastermind behind the operation struck a deal. Sixty rolled his eyes with an exasperated grin.

“You’d do better to show a little respect, Captain,” Allen used Perkins’ voice and snickered as Sixty jumped.

“Oh you bastard,” he shoved Allen’s shoulder.

“I like to pick my nose and flick the bogeys at the dartboard in my office.”

Sixty threw his head back and laughed, spurring Allen on to keep talking like Perkins.

“I have a tiny penis.”

“Stop!” Sixty was howling with laughter, knees buckling and he clutched at Allen’s arm. “I won’t ever be able to look Perkins in the eyes after this.”

“What a shame. Because I often like to sniff my own farts and was hoping you’d like to share them with me.”

Sixty let Allen go and turned away, clutching at his side as his laughter turned silent. His whole body shook, eyes were scrunched tight and he was at risk of getting a stitch.

Pleased, Allen continued walking towards the door with a small smile. He had one more thing to say, more for himself than anyone else. “I love you Allen,” he said in Sixty’s voice. It was a bit of a bad habit, but some days it was easier to hear Sixty’s voice say things he’d never actually ever come out with in the lonely emptiness of the offices when everybody else went home and Allen was left to charge overnight.

“Wait, what was that?” Sixty grabbed Allen’s elbow and looked at him intently.

“Nothing,” he said in his own voice but couldn’t quite look Sixty in the eyes.

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” Sixty stood in front of Allen, blocking his way. “In fact, it sounded dangerously like “I love you Allen” did it not?”

“Can we just drop it?” Allen tried to step around Sixty but his path was blocked once again.

“No.” The reply was simple and stubborn.

“Even if I promise never to do it again?”

“That would be appreciated but I do have one condition,” Sixty stared Allen down intently who only nodded mutely, ready to hear what he had to do. “When you want to hear me say that, you come straight to me, is that understood? Because then, I can look you in the eye,” here, Sixty used a finger to tip Allen’s chin up so they finally looked at each other, “and I can say with all honesty, I love you, Allen.”

If Sixty’s finger hadn’t been there, Allen’s jaw would have dropped open. His lips tugged into a wide smile and he reached for Sixty, pulling him close to his body. Using his own voice, he finally replied, “I love you, Sixty.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, @connorssock is where you can find me and Amny can be found on @amneal-jackwell


End file.
